


Lady of the Flowers

by eurosthewanderer



Series: So I watched the Spanish Princess and lost my mind [6]
Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Constant Princess - Philippa Gregory, The Spanish Princess (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bigotry & Prejudice, Catholicism, Espionage, F/M, Illegitimacy, Implied Sexual Content, Miscarriage, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, it's four years but I thought I'd tag it, massive canon divergence, wtf am I even writing???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurosthewanderer/pseuds/eurosthewanderer
Summary: “She’s pretty,” Charlie observed bluntly (who cares?).“She’ll be trouble,” Margaret replied. Henry shrugged (who cares?).“Eh, she’s all but the duenna’s assistant,” Charlie told Margaret. “My Lady.”Margaret reached over and patted him on the arm gently.“Bastards, especially bastard girls, are born of sin.” Margaret scoffed. “She was created in lust and will be weaker to it than most. She should be in a nunnery not strutting around court.”
Relationships: Catalina de Cardonnes/Oviedo, Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII of England, Eleanor of Austria/Arthur Tudor, Elizabeth of York Queen of England/Henry VII of England
Series: So I watched the Spanish Princess and lost my mind [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472648
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. The Pale Eye Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to try a different style of writing and this fandom is my current ADHD hyper-fixation and here we are.  
> Also give, Catherine of Aragon something to do, god damn it.  
> And give us a pay off for your set up.  
> Should I tag this possessive behavior because Henry's a bit...much in this one.

It was the day of Arthur, Prince of Wales, and Eleanor, Archduchess of Austria, Infanta of Castille and Aragon’s wedding when he first saw ( _ not right; when he first noticed) _ Catherine. He probably saw her first at the Tower when he met Eleanor in person. At that time he’d only known his frustration at how Eleanor was to be gifted to Arthur ( _ sent to Wales to have her body turned frigid by his touch _ ) and his fury for how God could have allowed it. 

Eleanor was fifteen ( _ just as he was _ ) to Arthur’s nineteen ( _ he could have been wed into France or to the Infanta Maria who was not two years older than him and Henry could’ve had his Leanor) _ and she the most beautiful woman Henry had ever seen ( _ sweet brown eyes; strawberry blonde hair, plump lips made for him to kiss; Guinevre and Venus both) _ .

Henry had not noticed the other women, enraptured with Eleanor. He had not even glanced at the Moor or smiled at the sweet faced blonde or the bright eyed brunette as was his custom. 

He had not seen Catherine even though she had been standing right before him ( _ dressed as if she was Leanor’s duenna; not a woman in the flush of youth _ ) as his eyes were fixed just in front of her, on the vision of all earthly desire ( _ his Leanor; his Summertime _ ). 

( _ God worked in mysterious ways; he wrapped his gifts so that they might easily be ignored but dressed his curses in the richest of silks _ ).  __

“De Salinas is the tallest,” His Lady Grandmother said as they watched Eleanor ( _ his Leanor _ ) and her ladies leave her wedding feast. The bedding would commence and end before the hour was out. “De Vargas is dressed in violet, I think. De Cardones is the Moor, of course.”

“That makes the one in navy Ferdinand’s girl,” Charlie cut in. “My lady.”

She walked just behind Eleanor ( _ who was an angel, visiting from heaven in her silver dress; eclipsing all others _ ). 

“She’s pretty,” Charlie observed bluntly ( _ who cares? _ ).

“She’ll be trouble,” Margaret replied. Henry shrugged ( _ who cares _ ?).

“Eh, she seems like a cold fish,” Charlie told Margaret. “My Lady.”

Margaret reached over and patted him on the arm gently.

“Bastards, especially bastard girls, are born of sin.” Margaret replied maternally. “She was created in lust and will be weaker to it than most. She should be in a nunnery not strutting around court.”

“She already looks like she belongs in one,” Harry grunted and waved his empty cup at a pageboy. 

The bastard looked back at him again before she left the hall and he made note of her( _ neatly bound back hair, two shades lighter than his own and the palest blue eyes he’d ever seen _ ) but only so far as to try to compare her disfavorably to Eleanor.

“Charlie,” Henry laughed ( _ slurred _ ). “That’s what you like?”

Margaret cuffed him around the head ( _ she was right to; he could find nothing to mock _ ).  __

( _ He would one day learn she had lips stained with witchcraft; skin like milk and a smatter of fading freckles on her nose; stubborn, gentle, cunning, loyal, brilliant Catherine. _ )

* * *

When he banged on Arthur’s door the next morning he was angry and hungover and had flowers in his purse ( _ a white and a red carnation; a chamomile flower; a daffodil and a fern; innocence and heartache; patience in the face of adversity; unequalled love and sincerity) _ . They were a reminder of who he was to her  _ (her first lover; if only in words _ ). They were the bunch he’d received in Eleanor’s last letter to him, written after her ships were blown back to Spain in June ( _ oh, how she had mourned that she was to be denied the feeling of his arms around her _ ).  __

He sang a prayer as Charlie and Will chuckled and muttered dirty little ditties about a maid’s first night. The only one of the group at the door who wasn’t laughing was the bastard ( _ fingering a rosary; watching Henry when he wasn’t looking and sometimes when he was _ ) for even the brunette spaniard standing next to her was snickering. He wondered if the orange haired woman even understood what they were saying.  __

“Good morning brother,” Henry greeted him with ( _ as much _ ) cheer ( _ as he could muster _ ). “Sunt tibi bene as the Benedictines say?”

Arthur answered the door in his nightshirt and a robe. 

“Have you already finished your morning prayer?” Arthur asked.

“I’ll be off soon,” Henry replied. “But, tell me, can you have a good night if you’re a  Cistercian monk ?”

“On your way little brother,” Arthur ordered. Henry did not obey.

“I’m just concerned she was too much for you,” Henry said ( _ voice full of that concern _ ). He looked past Arthur to see Eleanor shutting the door to the bedroom with a snap ( _ shielding herself from his eyes _ ). 

“What did Socrates say?” Arthur replied.”When men who are fond of spirited horses master those beasts they find the rest of life easy to cope with.”

“And did you master your warm-blood thoroughbred? Henry asked ( _ near snickering; Arthur he couldn’t have _ ). 

“Gentlemen,” Arthur said, leaning close ( _ pride in his eyes _ ). “Last night I was in Spain.”

Charlie and Will laughed and Henry forced a smile onto his face. He clapped Arthur on the shoulder ( _ as hard as he could _ ). That was when the bastard weaved her way past him and Arthur ( _ her pale, strange eyes glanced at Henry ever so quickly _ ). 

( _ What did you think of me then? He would ask her one day as they lay in the grass. _

_ That you were a child, She would reply, pale eyes peering up at him. And a cruel one at that. _

_ But you loved me, Henry would protest, knowing it to be fact. You loved me even then. _

_ Nothing pure may come from a poison tree, Catherine would say. But I loved you. _

_ My love has never been pure, Henry would reply and kiss her bare shoulder. And I don’t ever want it to be. _ ) __

* * *

Henry saw his brother for the last time just before Christmas ( _ though he thought little of it; Leanor was leaving him _ ). He found the Princess of Wales waiting as two of her ladies ( _ the pale eyed one and the duenna _ ) tightened her saddle. 

“My lady,” He said and bowed. “I hope you’ve found London pleasant.”

“It has been cold,” She replied ( _ beautiful eyes wide _ ). “Thankfully I have had much to burn, little brother.”

Henry felt his heart grow cold in his chest ( _ his letters; the ones he’d slaved over; squinting down at the page, worried more than ever before that words wouldn’t be written right _ ). 

“Hasn’t my brother been keeping you warm?” Henry teased ( _ demanded; angry _ ). Her eyes stared into his ( _ they were wet and her bottom lip quivered _ ) and he wanted to grab her, throw her onto a horse and steal her away from Arthur ( _ as if he was Lancelot carrying Guinevre to his Joyeuse Garde _ ). 

“Your highness,” The bastard called. “Your horse is ready.”

Henry turned and glared at her ( _ this woman was angry; pale eyes flashing; red mouth tight _ ).

( _ She was a vision with vines of cloth of gold onto her brown cloak and her hair bound tightly away from her face _ .)

“Well,” Henry continued as Eleanor was helped into the saddle. “Wales will be worse,  _ darling sister _ .” 

He waited with his grandmother as Arthur and Eleanor rode from the courtyard, starting their journey to ( _heathen, wild, cold_ ) Wales ( _where she would wilt like a flower without sun_ ). She did not look at him but kept her gaze fixed ahead and her pretty, upturned nose chin lifted high as she sat straight in her saddle. 

The bastard watched him as she rode toward him ( _ through her heavy lids; hrt expression as cold as the snow; eyes blue like the lips of a dead man _ ).

Henry shuddered. 

“What is it darling?” Margaret Beaufort asked him. 

( _ He felt laid bare to that woman; it was as if she knew all his sins _ ). 

“That rose petal gets to be King of England,” He replied ( _ the bastard was still staring as she passed _ ). “And bull-headed Meg gets to be Queen of Scotland.”

( _ A crimson rose was mourning; white for worthiness; yellow for a loss of love and a red rose said  _ **_I love you_ ** .)

“Henry,” She replied ( _ he watched the bastard’s back as she rode away _ ). “You have the heart of a lion and the soul of a poet. God had great plans for you.”

“In the church,” Henry said dryly ( _ as a celibate monk; wearing sores into his knees in front of the cross _ ).

“Yes,” Margaret said ( _ ever patient with his temper _ ). “At it’s head, leading us into a New Golden age as His scythe. You are destined to be His voice, His eyes and His voice on earth. Never forget that.”

( _ It was everything he feared. _ ) __

* * *

He was with Charlie on the tiltyard, running the ring, sweat pouring from his brow, arm aching when Wolsey came to see him ( _ dressed in his black robes; a warning; an ill omen _ ). Henry pulled his horse to a halt in front of the Chaplin ( _ lance held straight in the air; the picture of knighthood; the very image of his grandfather _ ).

“Your grace,” Wolsey said and bowed. 

“Come to try your hand at the tilt?” Henry asked ( _ laughing _ ). 

“No, your grace,” He replied. “I’m afraid I bring tragic news.”

A groom took his horse and Henry swung himself off ( _ heavy armor rattling his bones _ ).

( _ His Leanor? Had she taken ill? Had the cold killed her? _ )

“Your brother,” Wolsey said ( _ thank god _ ). “Was taken ill with the sweat.”

( _ Was?) _

( _ No. _ )

“He passed into God’s arms two days passed,” The Chaplin explained.

“How?” Henry replied. 

( _ Arthur was strong; his constitution better than Henry’s; better than Meg who’d never had so much as a cough _ .)

“His physicians did all they could,” Wolsey said. “But he has gone into God’s arms.”

( _ He was Prince of Wales; Arthur was dead; Leanor was a widow; Arthur was dead _ ). 

“God save us all,” Henry choked out ( _ he couldn’t think _ ). “Where is my mother?”

When he went to her ( _ sweat pouring down his brow and stinking of horse _ ) he found her holding his father ( _ both their cries filled the room with the most awful sounds he had ever heard _ ). Henry watched them for a moment ( _ unseen; rooted to the spot in the doorway _ ) before he turned around and left them be.

* * *

He got drunk that night before he went to his prayers ( _ Charlie hovered over him; worried _ ). He sat in silence after, unwilling to go to bed, unwilling to even put on his nightshirt  _ (he watched the merry flames in his fireplace; devouring the wood and laughing as they did so _ ).

( _ They were merry, so very merry even when the world had grown a bit darker _ ).

Eventually he lifted his head and looked at Charlie who was sitting across from him ( _ doublet opened at the collar; face so pale he might be mistaken as ill with consumption _ ). Henry rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave.

( _ He’d found out when he was thirteen that Arthur, at seventeen, didn’t shave but once every three days and laughed and laughed and laughed; he’d called him more of a girl than Meg and Arthur had pulled the ends of his hair, telling him that he looked like one. Henry had cut his chin length curls close to his scalp that very day _ .)

“Leanor’s sick too,” Henry told Charlie. “But she’s said to be on the mend.”

Charlie nodded ( _ he’d been at Ludlow until he was thirteen and went to live with his aunt, in Henry’s household _ ).

“What was he like?” Henry asked his friend. Charlie stiffened in his seat and then sat up straighter. 

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked. 

“What was my brother like when he was away from court?” Henry said ( _ was he as frigid as ever or did he smile; did he walk in the gardens like he used to when he was a boy; did have someone to chase after him and jump on his back like Henry would do? _ ). 

“Much the same,” Charlie replied. “Truth be told I didn’t spend much time with him.”

“And here I thought he liked the stables,” Henry chuckled ( _ cruel; too cruelly _ ). 

“He liked to hunt, yes,” Charlie said ( _ his voice strained; pained _ ).

“I’m sorry,” Henry replied. “That wasn’t fair.”

Charlie waved it off and shook his head.

“You should ask Will,” He told Henry. “Or the Dowager Princess. As his wife she would’ve known him best.”

Henry resisted the urge to shout at his friend ( _ barely; she’d only known Arthur for six months; she’d been  _ **_in love with him_ ** _ for a year before that _ ).

“I doubt that,” Henry snorted. “What could’ve Arthur done with her if he’d been sick?”

Charlie looked at him warily ( _ waiting for an explosion; waiting for him to fly into a tantrum _ ).

“The sweat comes suddenly, Harry,” He said. “He would not have suffered long.”

Henry swallowed, all of his joy ( _ all of his venom _ ) drained away. 

( _ Catherine had taken the Supreme Injunction twice, not that he knew it then. _ ) __

* * *

He started running the ring every morning and evening ( _ before morning mass and supper when his belly was hollow and painful _ ) after Arthur died. His tutor, John Skelton, had taken to complaining to his parents ( _ then his grandmother; then his bastard uncle; then any and everyone who would listen _ ) that he wasn’t sitting for his studies any more. 

( _ It was only a half lie _ ).

His afternoons were spent at the tennis court or the card table or the hunt when Meg was willing to come along with him ( _ only twice a week at best _ ). They wouldn’t let him out of the palace otherwise. 

Henry spent his nights praying ( _ for Arthur or himself he did not know _ ) in his grandmother’s chapel. She’d had a pillow sewn up for his knees because he kept forgetting his own ( _ she’d loaned him her rosary four or five times; he’d started carrying his with the flowers in his purse; the same he’d carried since Leanor’s wedding day _ ).

He received word that Eleanor ( _ Dowager Princess of Wales; Infanta of Spain; Archduchess of Austria; Leanor)  _ was returning to London on a Sunday. 

Henry sat beside Meg, eating mouthfuls of venison off a fork and hunched over his plate. His father was talking to Mary while his mother whispered to his grandmother. Meg kicked him under the table when he went to refill his wine for a third time. 

“Ow,” Henry squawked ( _ it hadn’t hurt; he was still wearing his boots _ ). 

“Pig,” Meg replied ( _ amused _ ).

“Funny,” Henry said ( _ unamused _ ). “Given I shot the deer and the duck on your plate.”

“You’re still a pig,” Meg said ( _ unbothered _ ). Henry huffed and sat up straight.

“If I’m a pig,” Henry asked ( _ very much bothered _ ). “Then what is your beloved betrothed?”

“Very charming, actually,” Meg replied. “Have you heard he speaks German and Dutch?”

As Henry opened his mouth to respond when his father cleared his throat and gestured, summoning a man to him ( _ how he hated his children quarreling in public; how Henry had gotten an earful after Arthur had pushed him to the ground on the second day of his wedding celebrations _ ). He hurried to the King, bowed and handed him a letter. 

“Who’s hand is this?” His father asked ( _ holding the letter for his mother to see _ ). 

“One of her highness’ ladies,” The man said.

“How is Eleanor?” Henry asked, sitting up straight in his seat.

“She has recovered,” His father said ( _ he didn’t notice; he didn't notice how eager he was; his grandmother did _ ).

“Oh, good,” Meg said, turning her head to look at him. “You’ll have someone else to drag into the woods.”

( _ Then her smile slipped away; Arthur had taken all the joy with him _ .)

* * *

He watched Eleanor’s party ride into the courtyard from the window of his room. She’d traveled in a liter but her ladies rode on the back of white horses ( _ the same they’d left on the backs of _ ). When she got out the sight of her was obscured by a heavy veil ( _ he had the urge to throw something; hit something; scream but he was not a child _ ).

( _ He was Prince of Wales; Arthur hadn’t touched her; Arthur couldn’t have touched her _ ).

The Dowager Princess of Wales was helped up the stairs by her duenna and an impossibly slight lady in waiting, who’s own hair was obscured by a heavier, darker veil. She turned back as Eleanor entered the palace to speak to one of the other ladies and he saw it was the pale eyed bastard. 


	2. Tudor Green

“Mama?” Catalina asked ( _ only five years old, watching men march and march and march from inside their litter).  _ “How many of them are going to die?”

“God willing, none will,” Toda De Larrea responded. “But to do the Lord’s work requires sacrifice in this country.”

“Why?” Catalina asked. “Is he not our beloved father?”

( _ Too young; too young to be told the truth of the man with the scary eyes and Catalina’s wild hair; too young to understand).  _

_ (No she wasn’t.) _

“Jesus was His only son,” Toda replied. “He died for us but we must prove ourselves worthy of his sacrifice.”

“We must die for Him?” Catherine said ( _ to be loved by Him) _ .

“Those men,” Toda said and pointed out to the soldiers. “Will enter heaven before the likes of you and I, God willing, but they will not suffer the fires of purgatory.”

Catalina rubbed her nose. 

“Why?” She asked. 

“This is a Holy War,” Toda told her  _ (so simplified; so joyous for a child’s ears).  _ “They fight in God’s name and are blessed for it.”

( _ To die in the name of Allah will send a man to paradise, Inès De Cardonnas would tell the two girls. _

_ Like heaven? Catalina would ask. _

_ Like Eden, Lina would reply. Right mama?) _

* * *

“Pray for me,” Ferdinand said when he came to see her in the convent. “Pray for your mother. Pray for your husband to be.”

( _ Pray for yourself, he never said.) _

“Never forget you are a daughter of Aragon,” He said when she saw him for the first time after she’d been widowed. “Never forget your duty.” 

( _ Always your duty; to me; to your country; to the glory of our bloodline.) _

“I am loyal,” She said. “To you, Your Highness.”

( _ Papa, papa, papa. Infanta Maria called him. _

_ Your royal father, Her mother said. _

_ My lord husband, Queen Isabella addressed him.  _

_ The King, Sister Juana sniffed, looking down at her as if Catalina was one of the grey cats that hovered in the convent’s hallways.) _

“I know, my Catalina,” He said and smiled ( _ she hated them; knowing how he would turn on her in a moment) _ . “Tell me, what has this Arthur said to our Leanor of late?”

( _ Tell me; tell me. Here’s a frenchwoman; here’s an englishman; here’s a mathematics tutor; here’s a book of latin with  _ **_Juan, Prince of Asturias_ ** _ written in a child’s hand on the first page; rip it out; rip it out; it has no right to be in a bastard’s hands _ )

“He longs for her to be his bride,” She said. “To be her lover and lord.”

“Good.” Her father replied. “Pray their match is fruitful.”

_ (Pray for your sins. Pray for her sins.) _

“Yes,” Catalina said. “For the good of Spain.”

“For the good of Aragon,” Ferdinand said  _ (not Castille; never Castille; never the woman he’d married) _ .

“For the future of the Infantas, your daughters, and your granddaughter, the Archduchess,” Catalina said  _ (she never did; never had; a child’s cruelty still buried in the heart of a woman). _

“Good girl,” Ferdinand said and patted her hand ( _ tap, tap and tap; one, two, three) _ . “You have always been my favorite, Catalina, of all my children and of their children as well.”

( _ Pray, pray, pray, pray for the Kings and Queens with a country already saying mass for their souls.) _

* * *

“What do you know of cyphers?” The King asked the second time she saw him when she was twelve.

“Nothing,” She replied. 

“Do you know latin?” Her father asked.

“Yes,” Catherine said.

“Well, then,” He replied ( _ smiled with eyes as pale as ice _ ). “Let me show you something, darling.”

It was three papers, one a simple letter with words of love and the second a ledger of shipments of grain to Castille’s army; the third was a cypher. It took her a moment for her to understand and another ten to decode it ( _ her mother had always called her smart; a good head for numbers but lacking wit was what her stepfather had said _ ). 

“Write me one,” The King said. 

( _She brought him flowers. She brought him a handkerchief with Christ’s wounds embroidered on in. She brought him an order for fabric. She brought him a page of accounting. She brought him notes on gardening. She brought him a letter asking for toys. She gave him a sewn shirt._ _His eyes lit up and he smiled and laughed._

_ He could make use of her _ .

_He would make use of her._ )

* * *

Juan Louis Vives met her and Rosa at their family home alongside a plump English woman with a heavy accent ( _ a Jew and a whore _ ). They worked the two until Rosa was grumbling and Catalina’s head was spinning. Her step sister liked to spend her dancing ( _ spinning and spinning with her loose brown hair flying through the air like a cloak _ ).  __

“Lina?” Catalina asked ( _ they were mending lengthening dresses; lengthening them and loosening the bust for their growing bodies _ ). “Would you like to take English lessons?”

“Yes,” Lina replied. “Though I’ll never get to use it.”

“You’ll be chosen to come along to England,” Catalina assured her nursery mate ( _ how could she be parted from Lina; they had been together since her birth; only spit when Catalina went to a convent; she’d missed her desperately; cried from loneliness _ ). Lina shook her head slightly but smiled. 

Lina took to English like a duck to water, devouring Mistress Stile’s lessons even as Vives scribbled away, finding himself arguing with two girls ( _ he was proud of them; he said it every Sunday and Monday _ ). 

“Why?” Catalina was always asking. “Why do you think the  _ here _ is the most important? Why shouldn’t we worry on the past?”

He gave her a look of such sadness ( _ how he cared for her, she did not know _ ).

“If we look back for too long,” Vives told her. “We may be consumed or lose sight of our blessings. All that we have lost will fade in due time.”

( _ She would realise, one day, that that was more a prayer than a promise; she would rage for him when he was driven from Spain; would rage for the terror in Lina’s eyes; would bottle it until it could be unleashed. _ )

* * *

Catalina spent her Saturday mornings shooting and her afternoons gardening ( _ sinking her bloody hands in the dark dirt to pull up roots and rip out weeds before they were out of their infancy _ ). She had a dark green dress with a simple kirtle that she wore ( _ unembroidered; easy to wash _ ).

( _ How long have you owned that rag? Henry would ask her. She would bristle. _

_ Longer than I have even known Dominoes, Catherine would reply. And I will give it up when I give him up. _

_ So you’ve worn Tudor colors before you were a Tudor wife, Henry would tease. It seems I was your destiny even then. _

_ Could you hold this spade, my Lord? She would reply. _ )

Most times her mother would go shooting with her and skin the rabbits they shot herself. Catherine learned how to start at the feet and work her way up with one smooth motion ( _ cutting the belly; careful not to get blood on the fur; it would line the cloaks she sewed for everyone. _ )

Mistress Stile started moving their lessons outside when she realised her slower pupil had an interest in flowers. 

“What’s this called?” Catherine asked. “And this?”

“It’s a hedge,” She replied. “And those are roses.”

* * *

She was first wed two months before her fifteenth birthday ( _ as if she was some heiress and not a sweet faced would be nun). _ Lina walked to the altar beside her ( _ towering above her tiny friend _ ). 

__ ( _ Did you ever want to actually be a nun? Henry would ask.  _

_ No. I would have been glad of it if it had been my destiny but I much prefer this one. She would reply _

_ It suits you better, He would say. Being my wife. _

_ I am your betrothed, Catherine would reply.  _

_ I’ve thought of you as my wife for so long it slips out, Henry would confess.) _

Carlos was a man barely three years older than herself, with a full beard on his face and with broad shoulders, dwarfing Catalina ( _ an easy feat) _ . He had a sharp jaw, high cheekbones and short curls. 

( _ Is he kind to you? Lina would ask her. _

_ Carlos? She would reply. Yes, very much so.  _

_ They both would know that they weren’t talking about Carlos _ .) __

She knelt beside him at the altar, face covered by her heavy veil ( _ a gift from the Sisters she should have been swearing herself too). _

( _ I’ll have you brought to court, The King had said. And given tutors. _

_ For what, your highness? Catalina had replied. _

_ English, I think, Her father had said. French.) _

It was lifted by her mother, pulled back from her face and her hair ( _ still red then; not yet darkened to match her father’s).  _ Carlos smiled and she found she liked it. 

He took her hand as the priest began ( _ she liked that even more; proof of this man’s kindness).  _ There were strawberries embroidered on his sleeves and collar ( _ little red drops framed by black vines and leaves). _ There was cloth of gold in his doublet and pearls on his collar ( _ would that she could have worn silver; would that she was a true born child; would that her blood would not taint this man).  _

( _ You are a marvel, Henry would say. A marvel, Cata.) _

Carlos kissed her hand and then her cheek once their vows were said, binding them together for eternity in the eyes of men and God. 

Holy matrimony to a man rather than to Christ, as she had planned.

( _ Jesu, The King would say.  _

_ Jesus, Catalina would say. Or so the English call him, your highness. _

_ What else have you learned? He would ask.  _

_ I have begun The Death of the King Arthur, Catalina would tell him. _

_ How do you find it?) _

* * *

“What is this?” Carlos asked. She was laid in bed in her nightdress ( _ pretty, plump thighs and soft belly waiting for her husband) _ . 

“My carnations," Catalina replied ( _ red and white; a woman’s innocence and aching heart).  _

“I suppose you’ll want to remodel my garden,” Carlos said. 

“If my lord wishes it so,” She said ( _ hedges overgrown; grass too short; a dirty path; no trees).  _

“There’s little point, we’ll be at court soon,” Carlos replied and poured himself wine.

“Yes, my lord,” She responded. “Perhaps when I return to birth a child.”

“God willing,” Her husband replied. “What are you lying there for? Come sit with me.”

She did and he poured one ( _ she took it but didn’t drink when he toasted; a hundred Hail Marys for a lie _ ). 

“You were raised to be a priest, weren’t you, my Lord?” Catalina asked. 

( _ His oldest brother was shot during a hunt; an arrow through the thigh that wouldn’t stop bleeding. _ )

“Yes,” Carlos said. There were two beats of silence before he spoke again. “Though, to tell it truly, I’d planned on being a monk.”

( _ And she had wanted to take a vow of silence _ ). 

“I had hoped to be a bride of Christ, myself,” Catalina replied.

“And here I thought I was rescuing you,” He chuckled ( _ fool man; little better than a boy but she was still a girl _ ). Catalina bristled but smiled ( _ best to befriend Carlos; best to earn his trust; she had sworn to be good to him _ ). 

“Have you read Nebrija’s book of grammar?” Catalina asked ( _ she knew he hadn’t; knew he wouldn’t; no one had _ ).

“The poet?” He replied. 

“I thought he was a tutor,” Catalina said ( _ Vives had sent it as a wedding present) _ .

“I think my sister owns a book of his work,” Carlos told her, shifting in his seat ( _ eyes fixed on her; one his pretty, pale, pink lipped, red haired wife _ ). “Were you taught to read Spanish?”

“Yes,” She replied. “Were you?”

“No,” He said. “Just Latin, I’m afraid. Why?”

“I was curious,” Catalina muttered ( _ embarrassed _ ). 

“That’s...uh...good?” Carlos replied ( _ clearly uncomfortable _ ). 

( _ It would be more uncomfortable than painful when he bedded her but, after he left, she cried all the same. _

* * *

“I didn’t hurt you too badly?” Carlos asked her the next morning. 

“No,” She said ( _ he looked confused _ ). “Could you pass the jam, my lord?”

“I am glad,” He replied. “I have no wish to cause you harm.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Catalina said ( _ layering her jam atop her bread _ ).

* * *

Doña Elvira de Manuel was the little Infanta’s duenna ( _ the Archduchess some of them called her; her sister in law was amongst them; thirteen years old and as mean as a scared puppy _ ) and very lovely. Catalina was supposed to have been allowed most afternoons free ( _ Carlos had seemed eager for it; promising to take her out into Medina Del Campo _ ); she was supposed to have spent her evenings with her husband ( _ being a bonny and buxom wife _ ).

“You’ll share her bed, Ferdinand told her. “Leanor is too old to sleep beside her nurse.”

“Does she not have someone better suited for the task?” Catalina asked ( _ staring at the ground; away from the fountain she had specifically sat herself next to; away from his disapproving eyes _ ).

“The girl is in the midst of creating a scandal,” Her father ( _ the King _ ) replied and smiled at her. “I wonder if you’ll figure out who she is.”

( _It took Catalina two days. She was Ferdinand’s mistress_.)    


  
  
  
  



End file.
